


Anchor

by RazzleBrazzle



Series: This Might Help [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Ficlet, Fix-It, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-04
Updated: 2013-06-04
Packaged: 2017-12-13 23:25:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/830057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RazzleBrazzle/pseuds/RazzleBrazzle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lydia didn't need to talk to Jackson to get answers before he left. She had something better than a conversation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anchor

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [Keysmashblog's](http://www.keysmashblog.com/) fix-it ficlet challenge, [This Might Help](http://www.keysmashblog.com/fix-it-ficlet-fridays-teen-wolf-edition/)This Might Help, for Season 3 of Teen Wolf. 
> 
> Thanks to [TuesdayMidnight](http://archiveofourown.org/users/tuesdaymidnight/pseuds/tuesdaymidnight/) for looking it over.

Lydia turned the events of the night over in her head as she laid in bed. She never did answer Allison’s question: “so you talked to him?”

No, she hadn’t talked to him, not in the way Allison meant, and definitely not in the way she expected. Lydia sat up and leaned over to her nightstand turning on the light.

She reached into the drawer, fingers searching to the very back corner, and pulled out his note. She unfolded it carefully, the creases on the pages were well worn grooves now, and re-read the words she’d memorized by now.

_Lydia,_

_If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be here. Thank you doesn’t seem like enough, but it’s all I have._

_I can’t even try to explain what the hell happened to me…_

_But please don’t worry, I’m going to be fine. You’re going to be fine. You’re stronger than any of us. _

_Keep the key, you earned it._

_-Jackson_

She refolded the note, tracing a finger over the paper, feeling the words Jackson couldn’t say, and put it back in it’s spot. She laid back down, turned over on her stomach, and reached her hand under the pillow. Her fingers walked along the mattress until they nudged the bit of metal. She held it in her fist and squeezed, the dull twinge of the teeth scraping against her palm anchored her, protected her. Jackson was right; she would be fine. Eventually.


End file.
